300 Writing Prompts #15: How Does A Memory Sound?

I have never been one to take photos. I wasn’t much of a photographer and I didn’t see the purpose in them. Besides, if you have any part of Native American in you, then folklore suggests that photographs steal people’s souls and I didn’t want to be on either end of that conundrum. Stealing the souls by taking the picture or being the one that had their soul stolen. Yes, I know it is childish but I’ve been told that I have a very active and vibrant imagination.

But lately, I am finding that these photos are conduits to my best memories, the ones that aren’t grand enough or traumatic enough to forever be etched on their own. Like windows in a long hallway, I see these still images and upon closer observation, I see them come to life before my very eyes. My recollections vividly being played back like footage from a vintage roll of film and I have learned that unless I visit them often, they fade and along with them the things that influenced and blessed my life.

I feel myself stop in front of one of the many windows and look out past the sil and into the vast expanse that started to shift with color into images and I close my eyes.

I can make out the sound of passing cars and rushing wind that follows. The music of people are all around me, pulsing to a tune of everyone’s heart in a rhythm that only the heart can translate. Some are louder than others and I easily pick out my mind. Ba-dum. Ba-dum. As I focus on it, the cadence seems to quicken.  Thump, thump. Thump, thump. All the white noise seems to become clearer.

I can hear the gentle and subtle movements of the clouds above. The constant buzz from the streetlights all around us. I can hear the soothing sigh of the retreating sun after another job well done and eagerness of the moon as they change shifts. The stars are mingling with each other quietly, observing us from high above with some of them focused on a certain event.

Although it was barely audible, I could hear a voice. “Just say it.” Like music, it played the strings of all of my senses. This person was important to me. She was someone special. Thump, thump.

The sound of my lips parting was akin to breaking the barrier, a deafening crash of noise that shook everything in me. The intake of breath was like being caught inside of a hurricane, winds funneling in violently. But  those words came out as soft as a kiss against the forehead… gentle and sweet. Genuine in  its origin and honest in it’s intent.

Three words that carried the power to change people lives in one stroke, like a potent magical spell.

Love sounds like a favorite song sung live right in front of you. Their best performance where the artist connects to the lyrics in a way never imagined and their voice becomes weightless. The emotions dictates the song and follows the harmony, guiding the words out effortlessly. You hear them and they speak to you, making you feel all warm and fuzzy on the inside.

With a deep breath, I watched myself confess my feelings to the woman of my dreams and as I turned to look away, it all faded to a view of a grassy field with stars illuminating the night’s sky. I walked further down the hall and paused at the window of my old home and found myself resting my elbows on the window pane, petting it with pleading eyes.

Watching for a moment before allowing them to close again.

Her voice was like a pinch of rich and sweet cinnamon, potent and demanding. It was singing a song that caused my limbs to relax involuntarily. Once again I could hear the slow and steady tremble of a heart. So calm… So gentle. I could faintly hear the world around me humming in joy and adoration. All the objects in tune with the pure love that played like an acoustic guitar, raw and unabated.

Hearing her say my name was like listening to hummingbirds when they introduced themselves to flowers. The peace wrapped around me was like no other.

The sound of rain could be heard in the distant; resonating like wind chimes as they struck the earth. A reminder that resembled the miniature bellowing cries of multiple clock towers.

I was weeping… the pain of remembering what I had lost.

I missed her gravely. My soul ached from a wound that had only now realized that it needed to repair itself.

Recalling her say those same three magic words, though this spell was far different from before. It carried the weight of entire human life and all that came with it, coalescing into heartbreaking and bittersweet goodbye.

Streaks of tears stained my face as I struggled to regain my composure. Just thinking about her reminded me just how much I missed her and how much I had been avoiding it.

Mourning to me was like a room filled with crying children who had all lost someone dear to them. The sound bone-chilling, tugging at strings in a rhythm that can never be forgotten. It leaves an impression on you that haunts you long after you’ve moved on. Even fond memories are tainted with the sudden strike of the chord. Causing you to flinch in a mixture of fear, panic, and dread. Other memories started to fill the void beyond the window, running like waves towards the opening that would grant them freedom.

Sitting in a corner in my apartment in the dark, the light from the streetlamp and passing cars resembling streaking comets, casting a thick veil for me to reside in… hidden from the world as I wept.

Outside with the rain beating down on my shoulders slump in defeat and in the mist of recreancy. Old wounds reminiscing on how they became scars without my consent.

Having to finally acknowledge that I had lost one of the most important people in the world to me and what came with that acceptance. Observing that casket with eyes that wept uncontrollably.

Or sitting on the steps and staring at the door, waiting for someone that would never show up even after they promised. Hope shattering like a piece of glass once I released that she wasn’t coming.

So I laid there… eyes hazily trying to drift close to escape it all. Realizing that love was the culprit for both my good and bad memories.

All the different types and forms of sadness and pain struck like blows from a professional boxer. I had no defense and the punches landed with terrifying efficiency. The resounding crack of lightning and the deafening boom of thunder upon every impact left me dazed. The discoloration of skin from damaged flesh and broken bone, the spreading of the aching sensation that felt so much like betrayal and hopelessness, and constant reminder of it in detail as it throbbed was too much to bear.

And smile… because I was able to say that I survived it all.

This prompt was hard for me to visualize and convey but here is my attempt at it. I hope you guys enjoyed the read and comment below on how you think your memories sound? It is a very intriguing concept to think about and I curious to know what others come up with. As always, thanks for stopping by. You are awesome and don’t let anyone tell you otherwise!

Until the next post…

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